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September 18, 2012

The evidence of things not seen.

I am at the point in unpacking where I can't find anything that I'm looking for. And I know it made it, whatever it is, (as the first thought in moving is "did it make it?" : did it even end up in a box here or did it get thrown out by accident or did it break in transit?) because I saw it but didn't need it at the time and now I need it but can't find it. This goes for pretty much everything- in boxes and out of boxes, my mind - right now.

I expected some familiarity already. I'll drive a road and feel nothing. No sense of my body writing this down for future reference. I know how to get places and the streets that take me there but they don't mean anything yet. I meet people and they are so unusually nice and you can tell they are always nice but we have no history.

It's awkward to be so aware of the beginning, the starting point. I wish I could be further along, maybe that we'd fit right in, wake up one day and it all be cool and I would not have noticed the un-easy-ness along the way. But instead it's like the anesthesia is not working and I'm awake mid-surgery. There is no pain, though, just a clarity, like I'm too-present for something I shouldn't be seeing. I know too much, the kind of knowing too much that kicks you right back around to waitaminute maybe you know absolutely nothing at all.

And I have no intentions to sound so dark- it's actually really beautiful and light here. A beautiful, unfamiliar light.

Gray spiked a fever Saturday night and I lied next to him in his bed, more new walls and ceiling I've yet to try on, nervous and panic-stricken that I don't even know where the emergency room is. I'll find it if I have to, I mean I do have GPS but gah my disdain for relying so much on GPS. That safety of visualizing where everything is and was and would be is... out of my reach and okay I'll just say it, out of my control. Which is, for me, a very uncomfortable and tortuous form of healing. And so my heart has its a-ha moment and in a flash I'm let in on the secret that I - and everything I'm looking for - we are exactly where we should be.

Aww, I feel for you. I've been that person in a new city. Looking so forward to meeting you tomorrow night at the book group and introducing you to some of my fave people in North Canton. You'll find your place. Also, Akron Children's is a fantastic hospital, about 15 minutes away via highway.

I love, love, love your beautiful mind and the way you write. I always take away so much insight from your writing. I always, always see so many reflections of my own experience wrapped up in yours. Thank you, Steph, for writing here.

Oh sweet girl...I feel it too, and I haven't even changed cities or houses. I've lived here my whole life and sometimes my windows get so foggy, I can't see exactly where I am going. And the panic, the loss of control...it feels like motherhood, the vulnerability of being led around by these beautiful little hearts, out internal homes. It's just this beautiful life of yours being lived with the doors to your heart opened wide. Beginnings always have a top coat of fear, but underneath, inside the doors and windows is So. Much. Love. You stirred me today. I'm hugging you from right here:)

It is all in the growing pains. We moved here a year ago and we are much further along, but I don't think its our final destination. Here is hoping to even more lightness within the expected. But the unexpected can be so exhilarating, too.

Oh lovely. That feeling of knowing, of history, or belonging to a place - on some level I kind of don't even know what that's like anymore, but on another level, I've found it here in Indonesia. Like it's always been waiting for me to find it. And the strangest is that I had to move so far awayt to find this. Wishing you knowing and history and fitting in and a visual map of your neighbourhood right in your mind.

I know exactly what you are saying. We moved from WV to SC at the beginning of July. It has been almost 3 months and although we now have a good routine going, i still dont feel home or familiar. I know where i am going and no longer rely on the GPS (much) but there is not feeling of nostalgia. I cant look at stores or parks as i pass by and think, "this happened there". I know it will come in time so in the mean time i just keep looking around and reminding myself what a beautiful city i live in.

I can so relate. And I had that moment of not knowing where an open Urgent Care was on a Saturday night awhile back. Also? I have yet to find my old, faithful, sturdy stapler but at least I can find places without my GPS.

I am a person who needs my creature comforts, so I really get this. When we moved three years ago it was just a MILE from our old house and yet I still had a hard time adjusting to the newness of the new house. I have a hard time imagining how hard it is moving to a whole new area. BUT, you will get there. And that place will feel all your own too. And there is also the excitement of finding something new around every corner. Enjoy that until the familiarity comes. ;)Beautiful post!

Such a sweet post! I've moved more times than I care to count (army kid growing up), so I totally get it. Moving is hard. It's uncomfortable, and it hurts. But it does get better. I promise. ~The Illiterate Author

I'm in the same place in the moving transition.Its been 2 weeks & I'm buried in boxes and can't find anything.The unfamiliarity is overwhelming but I know eventually this will be home . I hope soon you feel at home, as well.

I really love this. Because I remember those feelings. You know as a college student you kind of are in that place the whole time you are in college. Except that you are surrounded by mobs of people. But that feeling of this isn't really home is still there.

And you know, you may not be surrounded by MOBS of people, but you do have a mob. So at least you've got that, right? (I know! Even though sometimes you don't want to be with them because you saw them yesterday and the day before that and the day before that etc....